


Sobrik Imperial Checkpoint #17

by astudyinpanda



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Balmorra (Star Wars), Beating, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Missing Scene, Racism, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25783213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinpanda/pseuds/astudyinpanda
Summary: During a supply run under a cover identity, Zenith gets stopped at an Imperial checkpoint. The Jedi isn't there to save him.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Sobrik Imperial Checkpoint #17

If Zenith hadn't had to maintain a presence at his Bugtown safehouse for that damn Jedi, he would never have been in this situation. Staying at the safehouse meant stocking it with food and water that wasn't poisoned and didn't link him to the Republic military base nearby. Supplying the safehouse meant going into Sobrik. To do that, he'd spent an hour standing in line with a hundred other Balmorran civilians to pass through an Imperial security checkpoint.

The squad of gray-uniformed humans claimed they pulled him out of line for a "routine check." The people lined up behind him shuffled through the scanners without looking his way. Maybe the Imperials had held Zenith up for being a Twi'lek, or maybe they'd finally gotten a good enough holo of him on the battlefield to make a proper ID.

"Stand still," an Imperial in armor ordered him. The soldier was pointing his rifle at the street, but Zenith stood still with his hands clearly visible at his sides. He'd left his own armor at the safehouse. It was too expensive for Zak Fen, the farmer he was pretending to be. Fen was a real person the resistance had made a fake ID for, so Zenith could borrow his. Humans saw no difference between Zenith's and Fen's yellow skin, purple eyes, and lekku stripes, and Fen had never been arrested.

"I said, stand still!" The soldier lunged toward Zenith. A rifle butt slammed into Zenith's jaw.

He fell on his side. The soldier kicked him in the gut so hard that Zenith could've sworn he felt the boot hit his spine. His fists clenched, one above head, one against the pavement. Dizziness from the first blow left him helpless at the soldier's feet. Without giving him a second to breathe, the soldier gripped Zenith's jacket and heaved, forcing Zenith to rise to his knees.

Fen would've been so afraid right now. Afraid, and maybe bleeding internally. Zenith leaned forward as soon as the soldier let go, but breathing through pain didn't help when the muscles he used to draw breath were the ones that hurt the most. Nervous murmuring from the line of Balmorrans entering Sobrik covered his strained moan. How dare the Imperials treat a farmer like this? Fen grew the food these bastards ate, and they'd knock him down in the street when he'd been following their orders.

The administrative types looked bored while they ran Fen's ID through their databases. The other soldiers watched the locals get scanned to enter the city, pointedly turning their backs on Zenith's plight. Maybe this soldier handled the boredom by beating civilians.

The rifle pointed at Zenith's face, now. Fen would've been terrified. With an effort, Zenith twisted his anger into a fearful expression. "Please." His voice was low and dark with what he hoped sounded like horror, or at least humiliation. "Don't."

The soldier's posture relaxed a little. Zenith might survive for a few more minutes. This was how the Imperials wanted the non-humans who grew their food: on their knees, painfully aware that the Empire held their lives in its hands.

"He's clean," an administrator drawled.

The soldier joined the rest of his squad. Zenith staggered to his feet and immediately bent over his stomach. Standing up straight hurt too much. A perfect summary of life under the Empire's boot.

An impatient Imperial administrator waved him into the city. Zenith walked carefully so as not to jostle his injuries. "Pain is a word," he muttered, "only a _word_." He'd buy safehouse supplies like he'd planned, but first he'd have to find a doctor who knew enough Twi'lek anatomy to treat him and not enough to see that he and Fen were different people.

That Jedi had better free Balmorra from the Empire soon. Zenith couldn't pretend to be harmless forever.


End file.
